To Scorch the Sky
by Ronden Kiagre
Summary: "In retrospect, keeping all the different types of Dragons straight was probably the third or fourth hardest part of the whole thing." -Sokka. Ultimate Massive Multi-Crossover of Ultimate Destiny(A:TLA, Dragonball, Dresden Files, Elder Scrolls, Halo, Harry Potter, the MCU, and Stargate, to name a few).
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, Dragonball, The Dresden Files, The Elder Scrolls, Fullmetal Alchemist, Halo, Harry Potter, The Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson, Stargate, or any of the others that I might have missed. If I did, I would be so farcically rich it would defy imagination._

 _And yeah, I know I said I wouldn't start this story until I finished_ A Different Legend _, but this story just wouldn't leave me alone, and I keep having so many cool ideas for it, even when I'm trying to write for my other stories, that I have to start puting it on virtual paper._

Close Encounters of The 'Almost Fatal' Kind

Date:4E201, 17th Last Seed/AC118, 9th Qiaoyue

Location: Somewhere in northern Tamriel

* * *

The first thing Zuko noticed upon waking was that he was tied up in the back of a wagon. The second was the agni-damned barbarian quartermaster's incessant chatter. The third was the irritated blond nord in his personal space.

"You're finally awake. Do you think you could get your friend to shut up? We've been trying for hours."

Zuko groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to massage his throbbing forehead as best he could with his bound wrists.

' _Nasty headache, blurred vision, can't remember how I got here, and this guy smells like he hasn't bathed in a week. Just lovely. The only thing I can say for certain is that I have a concussion.'_

"Sokka, as your commanding officer I am ordering you to stop talking and tell me what in Koh's lair is going on."

"It's gonna be a bit hard to do both those-"

"I'm not in the mood for your lip soldier."

"We got captured, _sir_."

Zuko was somewhat annoyed that he had to open his aching eyes in order to shoot the water peasant a withering death glare.

"I gathered that."

"Shut up back there!"

The Prince glanced over at the source of the reprimand, and just about managed to make out the Legion uniform.

"Graghlagmnaghahh . . ." Zuko moaned, burying his face in his hands once more.

"And you'll never guess who we're sharing the wagon with." Sokka said in an unacceptably (false)cheerful tone.

"Please tell me it's not that weird priest guy who started following us back in Colovia."

"I have a name you know." interjected a voice Zuko recognized as belonging to the elderly one-eyed dunmer they had first encountered a bit over a week ago.

"Oh, yeah he's here too, but actually I was referring to Ulfric."

The Prince glanced over and confirmed that the Jarl of Windhelm was indeed sitting, bound and gagged at the far end of the opposite bench.

"Damn you Stormcloa-"

"A-ah-ah-ah-ah!" Sokka cut off the as yet unidentified sixth passenger. "Remember the agreement you had with me and Ralof?"

". . ."

"No-no-no, I wanna hear you say it out loud, 'cause it seems like your memory's getting a bit fuzzy."

"If I stay quiet, you and Ralof won't hit me anymore?"

"Exactly." Sokka and the blond nord, presumably Ralof, answered in unison.

The Prince quirked a non-existent eyebrow, and Sokka was all too happy to oblige his silent inquiry.

"So when Mr. Horse-Thief over here figured out who he was traveling with, he started freaking out, screaming, praying, and blaspheming all over the place, 'till Ralof and I managed to knock the wind out of him."

"Thank Talos for small miracles." the Priest chuckled.

"It's a little late for brown-nosing, Dunmer." Ralof snapped.

"Isn't the idea that one should not go about telling others which gods they may or may not worship one of the founding principles of your revolution?"

"And you expect me to believe that an _elf_ would not only _tolerate_ the worship of Talos, but practice it himself?"

"So I'm curious," Sokka sniped before the argument could escalate "do you guys give Heimskr a script to preach from or something, or is it the other way around?"

Ralof opened his mouth to retort, but Zuko had had more than enough by now.

"Everyone just shut up!"

They rode through the forest in silence after that, save for the creaking and clattering of the wagons and the occasional whicker from the horses.

Eventually Ralof broke the silence, having spotted a town ahead.

"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on girl from here."

"Think she can get us out of this bind?" Sokka asked hopefully. Ralof turned to him incredulously.

"Hey, it's just a shot in the dark."

They lapsed back into silence for several seconds before Ralof spoke up again.

"What village are you from, Horse-Thief?"

"You're not going to hit me again for answering?"

"A nord's last thoughts should be of home."

"Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead."

The carts rumbled through the gates and across a square before turning down the main street. Much as Zuko had seen in every other settlement he'd visited in Tamriel, a significant number of the buildings were abandoned and decaying, the population still recovering from the so called 'Great War'. It somewhat reminded the Prince of holos from just after the Third Invasion, of those towns and villages lucky enough to escape Covenant bombardment or occupation.

"We're stopping! Why are we stopping?" the Horse-Thief panicked.

"Well obviously they want to buy us a round of mead and prostitutes." Sokka snarked, with nary a glance at the chopping block across the plaza.

The prisoners were quickly unloaded from the carts and herded into several lines, and a female officer called out;

"Step toward the block when we call your name! One at a time!"

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

"Face your death with some courage, Thief."

A Legion clerk stepped up to their line.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood."

"Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting." he quiped as he was led off.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" the thief nearly screamed, shoulder checking the Clerk and sprinting up the street.

"Archers!" the Officer called.

A moment later a shaft sprouted between Lokir's shoulders, causing him to scream and stumble. The horse-thief kept running for a moment longer before a second shot slammed through his abdomen, followed swiftly by a third arrowhead erupting from his adam's apple even as he collapsed, skidding to a stop facedown on the cobblestone, the short red smear behind him quickly being obscured by a growing pool of blood. The whole incident had lasted maybe five seconds, and left Zuko feeling sick.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the Officer snarled.

"Jobari of Skingrad." the slightly ill looking clerk continued, and the Priest strode off even as he mumbled a quiet prayer, presumably for the now deceased thief.

"You two. Who are you? You're not on the list."

Zuko drew himself up as best he could, letting the full force of his indignation show as he prepared to give the hapless clerk the chewing out of his life-

"Forget the list, they go to the block."

"By your orders, Captain." the Clerk answered tiredly.

"What are you people playing at?! We're foreign diplomats!" Sokka snarled.

The Captain snorted.

"Diplomats? And I'm the bastard daughter of Emperor Martin."

"Your Empire will burn for this." Zuko spat. "When my people learn what happened here, they'll make you _wish_ for another war with the Thalmor."

The Captain snorted again.

"Get them out of here."

As a trio of legionaries began manhandling them toward the block, a shout rang out;

"Captain Proctus, what in Oblivion do you think you're doing?!"

"General Tullius sir!" the Captain answered, snapping to attention as the General marched up to her.

"Do I look senile to you Captain?"

"No sir!"

"Then why, pray tell, did you feel the need to remind me of my own name and rank?"

"I was merely acknowledging your presence, sir!"

"And how exactly does acknowledging my presence answer my question?"

"It does not sir! I was merely observing the formalities sir!"

"Well then, since you're so enamored with formalities, would you mind explaining to me why you were about to have the official envoy of the Raavan Union beheaded?"

"I was not aware of his identity, sir!"

"Do you speak cyrodilic Captain?"

"Sir?"

"Cyrodilic, Captain! Do you speak it?!"

"Yes sir!"

"Are you deaf?!"

"No sir!"

"Then how exactly did you come to be unaware of the Prince's identity when his subordinate just informed you of it?!"

"I assumed he was bluffing sir!"

"Well you know what they say about assuming Captain!"

"It makes an ass out of you and me sir!"

" _Incorrect_ Captain! If we were civilians, assuming would only make an ass of you and me. But we are members of the Imperial Legion Captain, which means that assuming makes an ass of the Emperor! And the Emperor does not appreciate being made an ass of, does he Captain?!"

"No sir!"

It was at this point that the Dragon landed on the keep.

All heads turned as it let forth a roar that (literally) split the sky, unleashing a rain of flaming stones, before taking off once more and spewing a stream of flame into the now scattering crowd below. Zuko found himself ducking and weaving his way across the square with Sokka in tow, dodging falling rocks and fleeing soldiers as they sprinted toward the nearby watchtower.

Several chaotic moments later they charged through the doorway, past Ralof, who quickly slammed the door shut behind them, and into the lower level of the tower. The circular room was occupied by just under a half dozen Stormcloaks, including Ralof and Ulfric, as well as the priest Jobari. One of Ulfric's guards glared harshly at them.

"What are you thinking Ralof, letting them in here?"

"They're not our enemies, I didn't think leaving them to die would be very hospitable of me."

"They've also made it quite clear in the past that they're not our friends either!"

"Did you not notice the damned Dragon out there?!"

"Enough!" Ulfric snapped. "Cut them loose; we're going to need every hand here if we're going to get out alive. Sven, go up to the second floor, see what's going on outside."

Ralof quickly set to work on their bindings while the other guard headed upstairs. A deafening crash and a flash of fire several seconds later informed them of his fate.

"I'll go take a look." Zuko offered, starting up the stairs.

A moment later Sokka, Jobari and Ralof followed a safe distance behind him. Reaching the second floor, the only evidence of Sven Zuko could find was several oddly shaped lumps of charcoal mixed in with the rubble that had once been a significant portion of the tower wall.

Another Stormcloak came charging up the stairs.

"Get back down- wait, no jump through here we'll be right behind you!"

"What?!" Sokka squawked.

"Bunch of Legionaries trying to break down the door, jump over to that inn, we'll follow with the Jarl!" the rebel barked as he dashed back down the stairs.

Not being particularly enthusiastic about getting caught up in a civil war today, Zuko took a running start and leapt out the hole in the tower, feeding chi into his legs to absorb the impact with the attic floor. Sokka followed a moment later, yelping as he, not being nearly as skilled in the use of his chi as Zuko, rolled his ankle in a rather painful-looking fashion.

"Hold on, I'll be down in a moment!" Jobari called.

"No!-"

The elderly dunmer landed with a brutal snap and a strangled groan as his leg blew out from under him.

"I tried to warn you." Zuko snapped as he moved to assist the old fool, glancing up to make sure Ralof wasn't also about to jump. Ralof for his part was looking down with concern and no small amount of trepidation, until he spotted something in his peripheral vision, leading him to literally dive down the stairs. A moment later the Dragon slammed onto the side of the tower, clinging to the rock like a bat as it stuck its head through the gap and unleashed a roaring firestorm.

Seizing Sokka and the priest by the collar, Zuko dragged them over to the nearest hole in the floor and dropped through, the three of them landing in an undignified, groaning, but distinctly un-immolated heap.

Disentangling himself, Zuko peered cautiously out the nearest window, confirming that the Dragon had moved on to burn down a different part of town. Behind him a soft golden glow appeared as the priest healed his leg and Sokka's ankle. Moving on to the next window, the Prince found himself gazing upon a much less reassuring sight than the previous one. In the alley next to the inn, the Clerk from earlier was torn between attempting to tie a tourniquet around the arm of a badly bleeding older man, and trying to cajole a young boy out of the middle of the street. The Boy, for his part, was frozen in terror and confusion, and was oblivious both to the legionary's pleas, and the shadow cast by the Dragon circling overhead.

Leaping out the window and dashing across the street, Zuko grabbed the child by the armpits and charged back toward the alley. His flight was interrupted, however, by an earthshaking crash behind him. Dropping the panicked child and turning to face the Dragon, Zuko was confronted with a roaring wave of flame. Lashing out with a jet of his own fire, the Prince knew he didn't have even the slightest chance of matching the Dragon of raw firebending power. Instead he sought to redirect the bulk of the flames away from himself and the Boy.

Even so, he found himself beaten back, withdrawing step by step for a searing eternity, pushing his endurance and breath control to their very limits as his steady, measured respiration gave way to ragged panting. His lungs screamed in agony and his vision and balance began to sway dangerously as his brain struggled to find oxygen he simply didn't have, until, inevitably, he stumbled. Raising his hand in a laughably feeble attempt to ward off agonizing death for just a moment longer, Zuko was startled by someone grabbing him from behind and dragging him the last few feet into the alley. Collapsing onto his back and taking deep, aching gasps of air, Zuko spotted his rescuers.

"Your hair is on fire." Sokka and the Boy said in unison.

Still too short of breath to bend properly, the Prince was forced to beat out his smoldering phoenix-tail the old fashioned way, much to his embarrassment.

"Still alive, your highness?" The Clerk asked, moving over as Jobari began tending to his injured companion.

"For now." Zuko panted in response.

"Well stick with me if you want to stay that way."

Sokka snorted.

"And you think you'll have better luck against the Dragon? Last time I checked, Zuko was the only one of us who can breath fire."

"Actually I was planning on getting out of here."

"Damn you and your being sensible. I was having fun mocking your nonexistent delusions of grandeur."

Giving Sokka an unimpressed look, the Clerk turned back to his companion;

"Gunnar, can you walk?"

"Well enough." The old man answered.

"It'll have to do." Facing Zuko and Sokka he continued:

"We'll make for the main gate, it's not far. If that doesn't work, we head for the Keep, there's supposed to be an old escape tunnel under the dungeons somewhere."

"I think my parents were headed for the gate, before we got separated." The Boy put in hopefully.

"We'll see if we can find them." The Clerk reassured.

"I didn't catch your name." Jobari put in as the six of them set off down the now deserted street.

"Hadvar." the Clerk answered, checking the corner of a nearby alley that ran parallel to the wall of the inner bailey.

"We'll have to cut through here, the street looks like it's blocked ahead. Keep your heads down and stick close to the wall."

No-one raised any objections, so the crept swiftly down the narrow passage, trying in vain to ignore the screams echoing all around them. Reaching a corner, Hadvar stopped.

"Alright, the gate is just around this corner and across the square." He said peering around the corner. "Try not to get seperated; someone should probably carry Haming. We're going to sprint on my- shit. The gate's blocked."

Suddenly turning in a panic, Hadvar slammed Zuko and Haming into the wall.

"Back! Back!"

An instant later the Dragon swooped down to perch directly above them, roaring and spewing fire over the square. Sokka and Jobari quickly dove to join them in the meagre safety of the beast's blind spot, however Gunnar wasn't so fortunate; the impact of the Dragon's landing had knocked him fro his feet, and even as Sokka turned to help him, the creature spotted him. The old man barely had time to scream as its jaws snapped shut around his torso, muffling his cries as it lifted its head and snapped it back and forth rapidly, like a lion-dog killing a hare-shrew. Disinterestedly tossing Gunnar's mangled corpse into the wall of a nearby tenement, the Dragon took flight once more, burning a deadly line across the square as he flew overhead.

Giving Haming's shoulder a quick squeeze, Hadvar turned to Zuko.

"We make for the Keep."

Zuko nodded.

They sprinted the last few yards down the alley, making a hairpin turn around the corner as they continued parallel to the wall. Suddenly the Dragon was overhead again, and fire washed over several knots of embattled Legion archers and battlemages, as well as any unfortunate enough to be near them. Far more problematic to the five of them, however, was the screaming tide of humanity fleeing before the blaze. Zuko managed to hold fast, as did Sokka, stepping in front of Jobari and acting as a breakwater against the wave of flesh and contagious terror. Hadvar, and the boy on his shoulders, did not fare so well; the crowd washed over them like an avalanche of bone and flesh, trampling them under hundreds of feet.

Horrified, Zuko forged desperately toward where he had last seen them. When the crowd refused to part, he tried flaring his flames, and while those directly in front of him attempted to shy away, the weight of bodies behind them drove them back, and he was forced to extinguish his fire, lest they be burned. Resorting to simply pouring chi into his arms and bodily shoving people aside, the Prince spotted Haming pinned beneath the stampede. Lunging forward, he managed to reach the boy before they were cut off again. Unfortunately he lost his own footing in the process.

Pulling Haming toward himself, Zuko kicked and bit and punched and clawed his way back toward the surface. Feeling a hand seize hold of him, the Prince nearly set its owner ablaze before he realized that it was pulling him _up_. Turning to see Sokka, one hand clenching the scruff of Zuko's neck, the other clamped firmly around Jobari's forearm, Zuko gave a nod of thanks before lifting Haming onto his shoulders and leading the way to the inner gate.

Winning free of the crowd, they staggered wearily across the inner bailey.

"Come on! Into the keep!"

Looking up, Zuko spotted Ralof, waving impatiently as he held the massive doors for them. Not one to look the rare proverbial gift ostrich-horse in the mouth, The prince and his battered party staggered into the (relative) safety of the Imperial stronghold.

* * *

 _A/N: Regarding Jobari; He's not the Dragonborn. He used to be in a MUCH earlier draft, but I quickly decided that I didn't want to do an OC Dovahkiin, and at this point his role is pretty minor, and the only reason he hasn't been cut is because he's somewhat important to a few other people's character development. As for who WILL be the Dragonborn, I don't plan on spoiling just yet, but suffice to say "it's complicated"._

 _Regarding the weirdness with Zuko and Sokka, the Avatar world in this story is pretty heavily AU. There was a single point of divergence, but as hinted early in the chapter, that point was an alien invasion, with multiple subsequent attempts, which began before Roku died, so the Avatar stuff is gonna be pretty different._

 _Also, while this story will be a massive multi-crossover, most of the stuff other than Avatar and Elder Scrolls will be taking a back seat for the first arc or two. I tried to find ways to make them more relevant earlier on, but that quickly led to the late story timeline getting really messed up. So sorry to everyone excited for space battles and superhero smackdowns, those aren't gonna be for a while. But rest assured, they WILL be there._

 _Peace._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N:_ **MAJOR SPOILERS** _for_ The Dresden Files _through_ Blood Rites _, so if you haven't read that far, you have been warned:_ **SPOILERS** _, and also some stuff might not make sense. Seriously, just go read them. I guarantee you'll have more fun there than you will here._

Illegal Aliens

Date: Age 764/CE-2003, February 5th

Location: Midtown, Chicago

* * *

Harry Dresden sized up the man who had just walked through his office door; Late twenties or early thirties, appeared to be of asian ancestry, approximately five-nine, built like a brick shithouse, short rough beard, dressed in purple sweats, multiple scars of an obviously violent origin, and missing his left arm.

"I take it you're not here to ask if I'm for real." Harry drawled.

"No." the man answered, with just a hint of an unidentifiable accent.

"Got a case for me?"

The man nodded.

"Then have a seat." Harry said, indicating the chair in front of his desk.

"So then, Mr. . . . ?"

"Son."

"Mr. Son. What can I do for you?" Harry asked, readying a notepad and pencil.

The man seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment:

"About a week ago my . . . nephew, . . . " he began hesitantly, and Harry's gut informed him that whoever he was talking about was probably not actually Mr. Son's nephew.

"Well, at the time we thought he was just really sick, his mother woke up when he started screaming, got into his room, he was in the middle of some kind of seizure, thrashing on the floor, screaming and coughing up blood. She took him to the hospital, and the doctors managed to keep him alive long enough for us to get some, well, _magical,_ help. When he woke up, that's when we realized that something else was going on."

With a sense of foreboding, Harry gestured for him to continue.

"He has no memories. Whatsoever. Not even muscle memory. He can't speak or walk or eat without help. He has basically no motor control, or . . . anything."

"If he can't speak, how do you know he has no memories?"

"His Sensei knows a bit of telepathy, he checked. His mind is completely blank. No evidence of tampering either, but that could just mean that whoever did it is exceptionally good at covering their tracks."

Harry's sense of foreboding had been well placed; if this _was_ a magical attack, it was an incredibly dark one, and extremely sadistic at that. Someone had tried to inflict a horrible, lingering death on this kid, _and_ they had gone out of their way to make sure that even if he survived he would most likely be crippled for life.

"How old is your nephew?"

"He turns seven in May."

"And are you aware of anyone who might have a motive for this, trying to punish or intimidate your family?"

For a moment Mr. Son looked tired, and old _far_ beyond his years.

"Too many to keep track of. That's one of the reasons we came overseas for help."

Harry grumbled inwardly at the last bit; he usually didn't like working outside of Chicago, let alone the 'States. But at this point there was no way he wasn't taking this case. Whatever kind of warlock or other supernatural nasty that would do _that_ to a six-year-old deserved whatever the Wardens would do to them, and probably more. And that's not even getting into what Harry planned to do to them.

"Where're you from?"

"Chikyuu."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that.

"The same Chikyuu that nuked itself back in '01?"

"That was aliens. There's extensive documentation of the engagements between them and the military and various good samaritans. Or at least the first few, before the invaders started using the news helicopters for target practice."

Harry got the feeling that Mr. Son had encountered his fair share of skeptics in his homeland as well, and wasn't a big fan. And considering that Harry had relatively recently had to save his vampire half-brother from being used as a ritualistic sacrifice by a cult of murderous porn stars, he really wasn't in any position to dispute someone's claims regarding something as mundane as an alien invasion.

"Wait, aren't your borders locked down tighter than North Korea's?"

"Part of that is the thousand miles or so of ocean between us and everyone else, and another is that most of the population likes to pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist, but basically yeah."

"How are we supposed to get in? Wait, how did you get _here_?"

"I flew."

"I don't do planes. They tend to have engine problems when I'm on board."

"Right, you guys don't magic-proof your electronics. But no, I used a magic cloud."

"It's more than just electroni- Wait. You can _magic-proof_ your tech?"

Harry's head was currently swimming with schemes for how he might smuggle a fridge across the Pacific Ocean. Or a TV. Or hells bells, a _computer_. How much easier would his life(not to mention his job) be if he could actually use the internet?

"We have to; the ambient magic-"

Harry's daydreams and Mr. Son's explanation were both interrupted by Harry's previously mentioned vampire half-brother storming through the door with a large fluffy puppy tucked under one arm.

"Harry-."

"Thomas! I'm speaking with a client right now, you can't just come barging in here."

"Sorry Harry, I have to run some emergency errands, and I was wondering if you could watch Mouse for a few minutes."

"What kind of emergency?" Harry asked warily.

"Nothing you need to worry about." the incubus answered a little too quickly.

"Thomas . . ."

Thomas looked at the floor sheepishly.

"We're out of Mac's."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"You _drank_ all of my _beer_?" he asked, deadly calm.

The tension was broken when Mouse lept from Thomas' arms into Mr. Son's lap and began vigorously licking his face and hand. Mr. Son, for his part, gave the dog a small smile and began scratching him behind the ears.

Harry sighed.

"You at least made sure Mouse did his business before coming here, right?"

"Of course! I'm not _that_ inconsiderate."

"And you're paying for the beer!" Harry shot after Thomas as he departed.

"Sorry about that. My roommate can be pretty annoying, but he's always had my back when it really mattered."

"It's fine."

"You were saying something about a magic cloud?"

"Yeah. The flight over probably won't be the most comfortable mode of travel you've ever experienced."

* * *

Date: Age 764/CE-2003, February 6th

Location: Cook County Morgue, Chicago

"You found something?"

Waldo Butters nodded, handing Harry a manila folder.

"They're calling it MCF; Metabolic Cascade Failure. Sixty-three confirmed cases, a few more suspected, scattered all over the world. All within the span of a few weeks, all between the ages of five and seven, no other apparent commonalities. Before your client's nephew, the case fatality rate was one-hundred percent, so no dice on whether or not the amnesia is normal. Why did you say your client came to you about this?"

"He suspects foul play."

"That would require a pretty extensive conspiracy, most likely involving multiple major world powers."

"So not particularly likely."

Butters gave Harry a stern look, or at least as stern a look as he could considering his less than intimidating visage.

"Harry. If you think you know why seventy plus kids just died-"

"I _don't_ know, that's why I'm investigating. It obviously isn't any kind of transmissible disease, genetic disorder, or environmental factor. What else is _left_ besides foul play?"

"Not much. But don't you think this might be a bit outside your area of expertise? Or above your paygrade?"

"I work with SI. This sort of thing _is_ my area of expertise. And I'm getting hazard pay."

"Well be careful. If there is a person or persons behind this, then they have an awful lot of power and basically no morals."

"So, a fairly average case for me then."

* * *

 _A/N: So yeah, the Earth stuff will be on a bit of a slow burn for a while, but I'll still try to keep it fun._


	3. Chapter 3

Diplomatic Blunders

Date:4E201, 17th Last Seed/AC118, 9th Qiaoyue

Location: Helgen Keep

* * *

Sokka staggered into the Keep behind Zuko and Haming, practically carrying the elderly Jobari, and breathed a sigh of relief as Ralof slammed the doors shut. Slumping against the wall, the five of them spent several minutes panting with exhaustion until Ralof eventually broke the silence;

"That thing was a Dragon. No doubt, just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the end times."

"Harbingers of the end times?" Sokka snorted. "Dragons are pretty badass, I'll grant you that, but give me a squadron of starfighters and a few good snipers, I'll reschedule your apocalypse for ya."

"Good luck getting those." Zuko grumbled.

"Come on, a couple of the marines are good enough shots to be snipers!" Sokka retorted.

"Yeah, but muskets are no substitute for a particle rifle."

"Fair."

"No protests about how you could totally build a starfighter out of spare swords and discarded wagon bits?"

"I'm not holding out much hope on that front."

"Uncle better be back by the time we get to the embassy."

"You think _Wani_ could take down a Dragon?"

"Maybe if she got the drop on it."

"So no."

"No."

"What are you talking about and who is Wani?" Asked Haming.

"Plans we don't have the equipment for and probably never will, and _Wani_ is the beat up piece of junk we call a cargo ship."

"We should get moving." Ralof commented.

They quickly discovered that the door to the dungeons was locked, but just as Ralof started to suggest they see if there was a key upstairs, Zuko cut in;

"Stand back." He said, slamming a blazing kick into the lock. The metal door groaned and screeched but held fast. With a snarl, the Prince drove another kick into it, this one managing to just barely deform the hard iron.

"This might be a while." Zuko growled, setting to work once more.

Standing across the room to avoid the flying shards of semi-molten metal, the other four waited in awkward silence, trying to pretend they couldn't hear Zuko's mumbled cursing punctuating the explosions.

"So, what's the deal with that hardtack?" Sokka joked awkwardly. The other three looked at him blankly.

"Seriously? Nothing? Come on guys, that one's a classic!"

It was at this point that Haming started to realize just how much he had been through that day, and began crying.

"Damn, sorry. I didn't think my jokes were that bad." Sokka started awkwardly, causing the boy burst into full blown sobs.

Ralof shot him a glare as he scooped the boy up into a hug, rubbing his back and murmuring quietly while Jobari took the opportunity to heal everyone's many scrapes and bruises.

"Get this gate open."

Startled, the three unoccupied adults glanced at the entrance to the barracks, spotting a familiar officer and two legionaries, one of them also familiar, though rather worse for wear.

"Hadvar! Thank La, I'd thought you got trampled back in the square."

"I did." answered the bruised and battered soldier.

"Would you mind explaining why you're fraternizing with what appears to be a Stormcloak sympathizer?" Captain Proctus barked.

"Excuse me?" Sokka snapped. "Don't we all have bigger things to worry about right now? I have it on good authority that the world is ending."

"And I should just let these traitors and rebels walk free based on groundless superstition and what? Even if it is the end-times, that means it's our last shot to send these backward heathens to meet their false gods." the captain spat as the gate ground open.

Storming over, Zuko hissed;

"This doesn't need to end in violence, but if you push me, I think you know which side I'd have to choose."

"I always knew you and your _people_ were duplicitous scum."

"Lady," Sokka snarled "He means we'll be on whichever side _you're_ not."

"Kill them." Proctus growled as she drew her sword.

The unarmed Hadvar looked on with an expression of anger and confusion as his comrades advanced.

Rushing at the unfamiliar legionary, Sokka ducked under his sword and body slammed him into the wall, following up with several vicious blows to the face. Letting the now unconscious soldier slump to the floor, he turned to see that Zuko had already managed to break both of the good captain's arms, and currently had her pinned to the floor with his boot digging into the small of her back.

"Don't feel like committing suicide on her behalf huh?" Sokka quiped at Hadvar.

"Not particularly." He growled.

"Don't expect me to believe this is the first time you've seen what the Empire is truly like." Ralof sniped.

"You know as well as I do that she does not represent the majority of the Empire's citizens." Hadvar retorted angrily.

"No. Just the leadership." Ralof smirked.

"Hey!" Sokka cut in. "Buddy we've _been_ to Windhelm; don't think you can claim you guys are paragons of fairness and equality."

Marching over to the stairwell and taking down the mangled remains of the door with a few more well placed kicks, Zuko glared back at the rest of them.

"Are you guys coming?"

"No." Hadvar stated bluntly.

Sokka was momentarily disappointed.

"Think you can take care of the kid? You guys seem to know each other, and he doesn't need to go through any more craziness today."

"Yeah. His father, Torolf, is an old drinking buddy of mine. I'll make sure he's looked after."

Sokka grinned.

"And also: Would you mind telling us where they took our stuff? Seeing as we were unlawfully detained anyway?"

Hadvar grimaced, but acquiesced;

"I don't know for sure, but if I had to guess, I'd recommend checking the storeroom downstairs. Take a right at the bottom of the stairs, it'll be the first door on the left."

"Thanks."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, they heard a rather disconcerting rumble from the ceiling, and quickly ducked into the storeroom. Unfortunately, they weren't alone.

"Hey now," Sokka addressed the pair of legionaries, "We're not here for a fight, we'll just grab our stuff and leave. No need for any stabbing or bludgeoning, right?"

The legionaries seemed to disagree.

Shooting Sokka a glare as he stepped up, Zuko confronted the duo;

"We have no quarrel with you or your Empire, we're just trying to get out of here alive. It would be rather unfortunate for all involved if you made yourselves obstacles to that goal."

"And the Stormcloak?" the legionary on the left asked pointedly.

"We wouldn't have gotten this far without his help, it'd be rather ungrateful of us to leave him behind. And neutrality goes both ways."

Seeing that the soldiers were hesitant, Zuko pressed the advantage;

"Besides, we've all got bigger things to be worrying about now, don't we?" he said, nodding his head at the muffled groaning and crashing above.

After several tense seconds, the senior legionary's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine. But no funny business."

Zuko nodded gratefully as Sokka and Jobari began combing the room for their personal effects.

"Found it!" Sokka crowed gleefully, quickly tossing Zuko his swords and dagger.

Within a few minutes, he was reunited with Space-Sword and Boomerang, as well as his newest, albeit temporary, traveling companion: one of the embassy's three Mk.-V plasma pistols, loaned out to him to assist in his prince-sitting duties. Jobari, for his part, made of with a heavily gnarled walking stick, a small, badly dented steel buckler, a knobbly iron bar that a generous man might call 'mace-like', and a massive heavy backpack that unleashed a cacophony of metallic clanking and rattling whenever the priest so much as nudged it.

"Ghuhg." Zuko groaned. "I remember why we didn't like you now. If you don't tell us what's in that infernal thing, and why it's so damn important, you're leaving it behind."

Jobari sagged in defeat and shame.

"They are holy relics from my priory. My order was charged with safeguarding them, back when we were younger and more numerous. I was warned by one of the locals that the Thalmor had been asking about them, and so I took them and fled."

Sokka could practically see the gears whirring in Ralof's head.

"You-" he began, before glancing at the legionaries.

Catching his meaning, the four of them left the storeroom and set off down the hallway.

"You're one of the Knights of the Nine." Ralof stated once they were out of earshot.

"Once, maybe. A century and a half ago. But eventually my age started to catch up with me, and since then I have been but a priest."

"But then those are-"

"The arms and raiment of Pelinal Whitestrake, yes. I would appreciate it if that knowledge didn't spread too far, however."

Ralof looked like he wanted to argue, but they were interrupted by a scream from up ahead. Dashing around a bend and down some stairs, they came upon what was quite obviously a torture chamber, with three legionaries just finishing off the last of several stormcloaks. Turning to face them, the hooded one in the middle had to dive out of the way of a fireball launched by a furious Zuko, before retaliating with a blast of shock magicks that sent the prince sprawling against the wall, groaning in agony.

Mentally labeling the sadistically grinning battlemage as Smiley, his massive sidekick with the mace and shield Chunky, and the mostly nondescript third one with two swords as Extra, Sokka let Boomerang fly. Smiley ducked, throwing his aim off and allowing Ralof to evade his spell as he closed with Extra. Rushing at Chunky, Sokka grinned when Boomerang clipped Smiley's ear on the return, eliciting a sharp yelp from the mage.

Stowing Boomerang and easily parrying Chunky's first probing swing, Sokka went straight for the kill, pressing his foe with a flurry of rapid thrusts and feints from Space-Sword. Backpedaling, Chunky batted each strike aside with his shield, even occasionally being forced to employ his mace in clumsy parries. Seeing his opponent on the ropes, Sokka drew Boomerang and hurled it at Chunky's left knee. However, even as the weapon was leaving his fingers, a miniature bolt of lightning slammed into his gut, flinging him several feet into a shelf.

Pulling himself back to his feet, his vision blurred and his head spinning, the tribesman barely managed to deflect Chunky's overhand swing. This however, left him wide open when the legionary smashed the rim of his shield into Sokka's ribs, cracking several and driving the air from his lungs. Parrying another swing of Chunky's mace, Sokka batted down another strike from his opponent's shield, only for it to crash into his right shoulder, breaking it and forcing him to drop his sword.

Raising his left arm, Sokka managed to mostly ward off any serious blows to his head as Chunky repeatedly hammered him into the shelf with the flat of his shield. Deflecting another swing of the mace by driving his badly bruised but not quite broken left forearm into Chunky's wrist, Sokka spotted Jobari rushing to his aid, backpack momentarily discarded while Zuko dueled Smiley in the background. However, Sokka's momentary glance was all the warning Chunky needed to get his shield in the way of the priest's swing. The distraction, however, allowed Sokka to wrap his good arm (relatively speaking) around Chunky's outstretched one, before driving a chi-fueled kick into his armored chest, sending him staggering and dislocating his shoulder.

His mace falling from limp fingers, Chunky fell back, shield up to deflect Jobari's furious strikes, while Sokka scooped up his sword and began circling around for the kill. Seeing he was about to be surrounded, Chunky rushed at Jobari, swiftly driving the priest back with strikes from his shield. Spotting an opportunity, Sokka rushed Chunky with vicious thrusts and slashes, driving him back step by step, right into the line of fire between Zuko and Smiley. Lightning arced over Chunky's body freezing him in paralyzing agony before a fireball crashed into him, sending him screaming and thrashing to the floor, even as Sokka joined Jobari in rushing to Ralof's aid.

The three of them quickly encircled and disposed of Extra, and Smiley fared even worse against four-on-one odds, and soon Jobari was doing the rounds with his healing spells.

"Maybe next time you should actually use the pistol." Zuko grumbled at his subordinate.

"Sounds good to me." Sokka confirmed. "It may not be particularly fair, but I think getting out of here alive takes priority."

Jobari and Ralof snorted.

Setting off down the hallway, they worked their way through the mostly empty dungeons until they reached a partially natural chamber filled with legionaries.

"We don't need to-" Seeing that Zuko's pleas for a peaceful resolution were being ignored, Sokka wearily drew his pistol.

What followed was a massacre so brutally one-sided that Sokka and Ralof had to spend several minutes afterwards being violently sick. The archers fell first, cut down by a hail of fire and plasma, while the rest of the soldiers were cut down helplessly as they tried to charge across the intervening distance between themselves and their assailants. A half dozen or so had the wits to surrender and allowed the group to pass unmolested into the natural caverns below.

A few frostbite spiders and a bear later they stumbled into the blinding daylight.


	4. Chapter 4

More Questions Than Answers

Date: Age 764/CE 2003, February 10th

Location: Mount Paozu, Eastern Chikyuu

* * *

As it turned out, Mr. Son's dire predictions of having to balancing on a relative stranger's feet for two-and-a-half hours whilst rocketing over the Pacific Ocean at mach 1.5 turned out to be unfounded. They were instead able to catch a train down to LA, in order to meet some corporate bigwig friend of Mr. Son's, who had apparently offered them a lift. Bulma Briefs turned out to be a well dressed young woman with a blue not-quite-an-afro that she actually managed to pull off reasonably well, though she was in a less than stellar mood when they met her, apparently due to the flirtations of one Mr. Stark, whom she had been meeting with as an excuse to enter the country.

Once he got over his fear that mechanical failures would send them plummeting into the sea, Harry found the flight to be fairly enjoyable. While it was certainly no luxury jet, the accommodations were still far more comfortable than coach, and he ended up spending the entire flight watching _Mr. Satan VS Bibleman 3: Revenge of The Mutant Luchadores_ anyways, so while he couldn't say he found much in the way of intellectual stimulation, he did get to reacquaint himself with the brain-melting wonders of TV.

After they landed, he was introduced to the equally brain-melting(if for very different reasons) wonders of capsules when Ms. Briefs was able to pull an entire house literally out of her pocket. The next morning it was only a five minute flight and a short hike to the currently deserted Son family homestead.

Cautiously opening his Sight, Harry began examining the property.

A house consisting of several interconnected domes, protected by a powerful Threshold, and radiating a sense of _Home_ and _Welcome_. A small, ancient-looking hut, which appeared to have been converted into a simple shrine. A crude wooden shed, housing a tractor and various farm equipment, beyond which lay several fields of what Harry(Not being an expert on the matter) presumed to be some kind of root crop. Focusing on the Threshold, Harry confirmed that while someone _had_ crossed it uninvited within the last few weeks, no unwelcome magic had been performed there.

"Well, someone broke in, probably around the time of your nephew's illness, but they didn't use any magic while they were here."

"How can you tell that?" Ms. Briefs asked suspiciously.

"Any place that's a true Home to the people living there develops natural magical defenses, and the ones here were definitely disrupted, but they aren't _damaged_ the way they would be if someone tried to force a spell through them."

"So the attack was performed via non-magical means." Mr. Son concluded.

"Or it could have been carried out earlier and didn't take effect until that night. Or it could have been done by someone who was invited into the house on good faith."

Mr. Son looked vaguely offended by the implications.

"The only person M-Chi-chi would have invited in who knows even the slightest bit of magic is Piccolo, and he's demonstrated on multiple occasions that he's more than willing to _die_ for the sake of Gohan's safety. I'll admit that his past is a less than admirable, but he cares about that kid more than he does anyone else on the planet."

Harry noted Mr. Son's odd verbal slip, even as Ms. Briefs mumbled something unflattering about Piccolo under her breath.

"Could Gohan have been tricked into letting someone in?"

"Not without letting his Mom know."

"So we're probably looking at either a non-magical attack, or some kind of delayed-effect spell. I'd have to take a look at the kid to be sure."

They spent the next hour or so combing over the property for any other clues, but as Harry had expected, they came up empty-handed.

Eventually they boarded Ms. Briefs' plane once more, and took off for her home on the other side of the island.

"So are you two aware of any mundane means to cause the kind of amnesia the kid has? Cause I'm coming up blank, but obscure poisons aren't exactly my specialty."

Ms. Briefs glanced back from the pilot's seat.

"I've heard some unsubstantiated rumors about some surgical procedures that might be able to do it, but I think we can safely rule those out. I've already got people looking into them anyway, and so far they haven't turned up anything credible, let alone useful."

"Gero could have probably pulled it off, though it doesn't match his usual MO." Mr. Son put in.

"Gero?"

"A not-quite-as-dead-as-everyone-pretends-he-is war criminal that Goku managed to piss off back when we were kids. Genius with cybernetics, but had a bad habit of not asking his test subjects for permission. We occasionally have to deal with him sending cyborg assassins after us." Ms. Briefs called back.

"Like I said though; this doesn't match his usual tactics. If he were behind it, Chi-chi would be nailed to the wall or something equally gruesome, and Gohan would be either right next to her, or missing completely. Besides, you mentioned that similar cases have cropped up all over the world in the last few months, and I don't think Gero has either the means or motive to do that. Though his androids are some the only things stealthy enough to break into the house without waking Gohan _or_ getting Piccolo's attention."

"That's another thing;" Ms. Briefs added "I can't think of any non-magical poisons or diseases that could cause that kind of total metabolic failure. At least, not without also causing a ton of other, easily noticeable problems first. Doesn't mean they're not out there, but it definitely narrows down the possibilities quite a bit."

It was somewhere around 'cyborg assassins' that Harry realized that Butters might have been right about this being above his paygrade.

* * *

 _A/N: This and chapter six were originally going to be one chapter, but I felt the second half would work better on its own. Unfortunately that leaves this chapter a bit shorter than I'd like._


End file.
